Beyond the sanctuary, deep within the corrupted forest, a cloaked figure stood motionless before a pulsating core of decay. The air around it shimmered faintly with heat, the core’s red glow casting an eerie hue across his skin. His eyes, deep green and unblinking, held an intense focus, as though peering beyond the physical into something unseen.

  At his feet lay a fawn, cold and lifeless, its delicate frame twisted unnaturally in the corrupted earth. Slowly, with a sickening crack, its body twitched. The movement spread—first to its legs, then its neck—until the fawn rose to its feet. Its once-soft features became sharper, more grotesque, its eyes glowing faintly as the corruption took hold.

  The cloaked figure watched in silence, his hand extending briefly toward the fawn as if guiding its transformation. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the creature turned and darted into the darkness, vanishing as swiftly as it had risen.

  ? ? ?

  The tree’s luminescence flickered faintly, as if disturbed by a distant wind. Ivy lay curled on her bed, her arms tucked beneath her head in an awkward sprawl. Strands of her hair clung to her cheek, illuminated by the soft light filtering through the window.

  “Ivy!”

  Nirva’s shout pierced the quiet, pulling Ivy from her slumber. Her eyes shot open, darting around the barely lit room as her mind scrambled to catch up. Shadows flickered across the walls, the glow from the hearth long since dimmed. Disoriented, she clumsily untangled herself from the mess of blankets and stumbled out of bed, her feet hitting the wooden floor with a dull thud.

  She threw open the door to her room, nearly tripping over herself as she rushed toward the commotion. In the dim corridor, Nirva stood rigid, her pale eyes glowing an eerie white as she gripped her staff tightly. Her voice was low and urgent as she spoke again, “Something is coming.”

  Before Ivy could respond, a faint, otherworldly hum filled the sanctuary, a tremor rippling through the air. Nirva’s gaze snapped toward the balcony, and Ivy followed, her breath catching at the sight below.

  Outside, at the edge of the sanctuary’s protective wards, the forest twisted in on itself. Shapes moved erratically in the gloom, disfigured forms of once-beautiful creatures emerging from the shadows. A stag, with its antlers blackened and warped into jagged, unnatural spires, threw itself against the glowing barrier. Its body trembled violently as it struck the light, steam rising where corruption met the ward’s purity.

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  Other creatures followed—wild boars with gnarled tusks, foxes whose fur bristled with thorn-like spines, and owls whose hollow, glowing eyes gazed blindly ahead. They hurled themselves at the barrier without hesitation, their shrieks and howls tearing through the night. The wards pulsed in response, their radiant light flaring with each impact, holding firm but flickering under the relentless assault.

  High above, a black crow circled, its sharp caws piercing through the chaos. Nirva’s pale eyes followed its flight as she stood on the sanctuary’s balcony, her staff held tightly in one hand. The crow dipped lower, its sickly green eyes searching the edge of the forest, its movements mirroring the rhythm of Nirva’s thoughts. Ivy had seen it many times before.

  “They’re getting more desperate,” Nirva muttered. Ivy’s gaze followed the crow, too. It darted toward the barrier, circling just above the corrupted creatures before returning to Nirva’s staff. Its talons curled around the gnarled wood as it croaked softly in her ear. Nirva’s grip tightened, her expression grim as she processed the scene below.

  Ivy was frozen beside her, until her hands flew to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes as she took in their agony. The stag, once a symbol of grace, now trembled with violent spasms, its corrupted body collapsing only to rise again.

  “No … they’re in pain,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She couldn’t tear her gaze away, her heart wrenching as the once-beautiful forms of the wildlife were reduced to tools of destruction. What was happening to this forest? For thousands of years, it had thrived in its balance. That harmony had never been flawless; there were scars in the bark of ancient trees and stories of old struggles carried in the songs of the animals, but it had always been natural. It had always felt alive.

  Until now.

  “Ivy, don’t—” Nirva began, but her words were cut off as Ivy bolted toward the great tree’s staircase, panic propelling her steps.

  “I have to stop them!” Ivy cried, her voice raw with desperation as she descended the winding stairs.

  Nirva’s eyes widened, and she thrust her staff forward. “Ivy, wait!” she shouted sharply, but Ivy didn’t pause. Her hurried footsteps echoed behind her, fading into the depths of the tree.

  The crow cawed again, flapping its wings in agitation as it hovered near Nirva. Without hesitation, Nirva extended her arm, and the crow perched on her staff, croaking low and urgently. She exhaled sharply, her gaze narrowing as she turned and began descending the stairs after Ivy.

  Her cloak billowed behind her, her movements swift and purposeful. The crow balanced easily on the staff, its glowing eyes flickering as it seemed to share Nirva’s focus.

  “Foolish girl,” Nirva muttered under her breath, though her tone carried more concern than reproach. “Always acting without thinking.”

  The crow shifted on her staff, its talons tapping lightly as it croaked once more. Nirva nodded, her grip tightening. “Keep an eye on the barrier,” she instructed softly. The crow launched itself into the air with a sharp caw, darting back toward the grove as Nirva continued her pursuit of Ivy. Otherwise, it may all end in a catastrophe far greater than Nirva could handle.